


Amica, Endure

by kijikun, Obstinate Nocturna (ChrisCrossed)



Series: The Flow of the Light [4]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amica Endurae, Arguing, Background Rodimus/Megatron, Conjunx Endura, M/M, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 19:51:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6207889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kijikun/pseuds/kijikun, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisCrossed/pseuds/Obstinate%20Nocturna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ratchet and Drift's planned date night gets interpreted by duty to their amicas. Some duties are easier than others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amica, Endure

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to our beta harutemu.
> 
> This takes place very soon after Heavy is The Helm.

Velocity stuck her helm into the CMO office that Ratchet 'shared' with First Aid. "Ratchet, your shift has been over for a joor," she said with a smile. "Don't you have a date?"

"Don't you have patients?" He shot back without any real bite, signing off on the last report. 

“Nope! It’s been pretty quiet this orn,” she told him. "Unless you count Synth coming in as usual - for chemical burns this time. First Aid took care of her."

Ratchet ex-vented and shook his helm. It was the strangest damn courting he’d ever seen, but damn if it didn’t appear to be working. "Of course he did."

Velocity snickered softly as Ratchet passed her. 

"First Aid," Ratchet said, looking over at the other medic treating Synth's chemical burns.

"Uh, yeah Ratchet?" 

"Medibay makes for terrible dates," he told him, and walked out to the sound of First Aid sputtering and Synth laughing.

But Velocity was right -- he _did_ have a date scheduled with Drift; normally, the swordsmech would have come to the medibay and dragged him out of his office the moment his shift had ended. But Drift hadn’t even comm’d Ratchet, and it admittedly had the medic a bit worried. He headed through the halls of the ship, nodding in greeting to some mechs, answering the greetings of others. 

The halls of the Lost Light all mostly looked like each other, except for the occasional skid marks, dents, or burn marks. He passed Whirl's hab-suite on the way to Drift's, noting that the ex-wrecker had placed another new clock over his door. If it made Whirl happy, he didn't care. When he reached Drift's door is occurred to him he could have just _comm'd_ his endura, but -- well he was already there.

Ratchet keyed in the code and stepped inside. What he saw he hadn’t been expecting -- Rodimus was curled up against Drift’s side, halfway into his lap, making tiny distressed noises against Drift’s shoulder. Ratchet’s first thought was of how he was going to slowly and painfully dismantle Megatron and ship him piece by piece back to Cybertron, until he realized that there wasn’t any energon staining Drift or his greatsword.

Drift’s optics met Ratchet's as he pet Rodimus' drooping spoiler while crooning softly. Rodimus jerked slightly when the door slid closed, but Drift hushed him with a nuzzle and a pulse of comfort with his field. "It's just Ratchet. It's okay."

Rodimus made a wounded sound curling tighter into Drift's side. Ratchet could sense how distressed his field was from where he stood. He made a move to step back through the door, but Drift gave a little shake of his head. As he did, Drift kept cooing and humming and petting him until Rodimus wound down into a light recharge cycle.

::Sorry for not comm’ing you, Ratch, but I think we’ll have to reschedule tonight,:: Drift comm’d him apologetically.

::What happened? Is Rodimus hurt?::

::Not physically,:: Drift said, ::Optimus called. About Megatron.::

Ratchet vents stalled for a moment. ::He didn't. He slagging didn't.::

::He did.:: Drift said, his glyphs icy and furious, ::Rodimus has been like this ever since.::

::Optimus and I are going to have word,:: Ratchet comm'd, gritting his denta. ::Do you need anything? Do you need me to stay?::

Drift smiled. ::No, I think I have this under control, and Rodimus may feel more comfortable with fewer mecha around to see him like this. Thank you, though.::

::Let me know if you do -- or need interference ran with Megatron,:: Ratchet offered. He didn't know quite how Megatron would react to seeing his courtmate and co-captain so -- vulnerable. ::Love you, Drift. You're a good amica to him.::

::Love you too, Ratch. And I'm trying to be. Megatron sorta knows, Rodimus'll go with him after his shift I think. I'll find you then if I can.::

Ratchet nodded, tersely walking back out the door and storming down the hallway back toward his own hab-suite.

He had a call to make.

\---

Ratchet stared at the vid screen, already feeling a scowl setting in on his face, as he waited for Optimus to deem to pick up the call. He hadn't had much call to use the private vid screen the CMO suite - which First Aid had refused to claim - allowed him, but now he was glad for the 'perk'. He didn't want anyone overhearing what he would be saying to his amica -- if they were still even that. 

He glanced up at the stars Drift had painted on the ceiling trying to calm him temper. They were centering -- not in any of the ways Drift would claim, but as a reminder of how many good things Ratchet had now. Like Drift. 

He ex-vented slowly and focused back on the screen, forcing himself to relax back in the arm chair. If Optimus didn't answer, well that might answer a lot of things right there.

Ratchet was about to give up hope when the vidscreen finally filled with a view of a very tired looking Optimus Prime; he all but beamed when he saw who had called him. “Ratchet. It’s good to hear from you, my friend.”

"Hello, Optimus," Ratchet said, really hoping his tone sounded even and calm. "You look tired. Don't make me come all the way back to Cybertron just to make you fuel and recharge on a regular basis. I don't think Drift is all that interested in settling down yet."

“I have been taking care of myself, it has just been a long few orns,” Optimus chuckled,“Though I cannot say I would complain about you returning to Cybertron, Ratchet.”

"I'll still worry about you." Ratchet ex-vented slowly. "And you might change your mind about that considering why I'm calling, Optimus."

Optimus frowned. “Is something the matter?”

Ratchet shifted in his chair, folding his hands together. "You tell me." He could still taste the grief and pain from Rodimus’ field. Rodimus might have deserved a lot of the talks he'd gotten over the vorns from Optimus, but Ratchet knew this one had been out of line given the subject. "I hear you spoke to Rodimus earlier."

The change that went over Optimus was immediate and almost startling -- gone was the friendly, amicable mech and in his place sat the Prime. "I did," he said evenly. "But that discussion was between me and him, Ratchet. I'm sure you understand that."

"No," Ratchet said leaning forward, hands gripping the arms of the chair. "No, Optimus, I don't. I want to know - though I can make a very good guess - what you said to Rodimus that wrecked him like it did. And don't play ignorant with me, I know you better than anyone -- or at least I did."

Guilt seemed to flash through Optimus’ feature before he managed to school them again. "I --my intention wasn't to hurt him. I only want what's best for him, Ratchet. He's still so young -- "

“Your intentions aren’t worth slag when I walk into Drift’s hab and find Rodimus crying on his shoulder,” Ratchet snapped, “You put Megatron on this ship, Optimus, to punish Rodimus. You don’t get to hurt him because things aren’t working out like you intended.”

Optimus mouth folded into a scowl. "I did _not_ put Megatron on the Lost Light to punish Rodimus.”

“No, my mistake, you made him _Captain_ of _Rodimus’ ship_ to punish Rodimus.”

He flinched visibly back. “Ratchet, be reasonable. Megatron cannot be judged until the Knights are found and he would not be safe on or for Cybertron. Putting him in a position of semi responsibility would ensure that Megatron would behave especially if his words of having rethought what he'd done were true!" Optimus protested, distress clear in his facial expression. "It made the most sense and Rodimus didn't object --"

“Of course Rodimus didn’t object!” Ratchet growled. “You’re _Optimus Prime_ \-- you’re his _idol_ , do you have any idea the ridiculous lengths that stupid sparkling would do for a word of praise from you?”

"I -- Ratchet, he doesn't -- " Optimus shook his helm. "I'm no one's idol. He barely listens to me or anyone else. I only wanted to make sure Megatron hadn't -- taken advantage." Optimus sounded as if he wasn't really sure of his own words. 

“You think that any mech on this ship would have left Megatron in one piece if they’d thought he was taking advantage of Rodimus?” Ratchet asked, with a gesture meant to encompass the whole ship. “You think _I_ would have let it get this far if they weren’t serious?”

Optimus shook his helm again. "Megatron could have -- " he cut himself off, with a angry sounding rumble of his engine. Ratchet knew well the signs of Optimus' temper fraying. The twitching at the corners of Optimus' mouth, the way his optics seem to narrow. "I had a _right_ to be concerned that Megatron could have been manipulating another Prime, Ratchet! Rodimus doesn't know what he's doing. At all! That was obvious when he didn't stand down as Captain, when he _broke_ the Matrix. Rodimus never thinks things through. You know that as well as I do."

“He saved every cold constructed mech in the universe with his _half_ of the Matrix, it isn’t as though he was playing catch with it!” Ratchet defended, shooting to his pedes. “And it isn’t as though _you_ were a seasoned general when the war started either. He’s trying, Optimus -- he had been getting better. Even if I disagreed with his decision at the time too, it’s _his ship_ , Optimus. He wasn’t obliged to step down, just like he wasn’t obliged to let Megatron on board, to Captain the _Lost Light_. He did it because _you_ told him to. Because he respects you, and wants your approval more than energon.”

"It's an Autobot vessel. Not his personal party ship -- " Optimus started, a hint of desperation to win his argument in his vocalizations.

“Except it’s not an Autobot vessel.” Ratchet interrupted, angrily. His hand shook and he flexed them to stop the feeling. “Drift bought it for Rodimus.”

Optimus' optics cycled rapidly. "What?"

“Drift bought the _Lost Light_ with his personal funds, and gifted it to Rodimus,” Ratchet repeated, a bit less angrily, but not much less.

Optimus in-vented hard enough that Ratchet could hear it. "I see," he said, after several silent kliks. "I see. I did not know that bit. Or what Tyrest’s kill-switch was for. I - may have misjudged some of the situation."

Ratchet ex-vented and raised an optic ridge. “You think?” He sat back down in his chair heavily. “Optimus, I understand being concerned about Rodimus’ decision in letting Megatron court him. But you’re the one who put Megatron on the _Lost Light_ and said that everyone deserved a second chance, even him. I know you two have _history_ , but Megatron's been good for Rodimus, and Rodimus for him. Isn't that more important than history?"

Optimus grimaced. “It… it is, I suppose." His shoulder struts slumped just a little. "I should go. It -- Ratchet it was nice to see and hear you. Even if -- " He stopped optics looking away. "I'm sorry I've disappointed you again."

The vid screen went dark. “Optimus --” Ratchet said, half risen out of his seat again, arm outstretched as if he could somehow stop Optimus from ending the call. He slumped back into the chair and put a hand over his optics. "Slag." 

He sat there long enough to lose track of time. He wasn't sure which one of them was the worst amica or friend. If he'd done the right thing. If Optimus would ever take a call from him again.

"Ratch?" Drift voice was gentle as the servos that curved over his crest. Ratchet started slightly, looking back at the swordsmech.

“Drift? When did you -- how much of that did you hear?”

"Enough," Drift said softly, leaning down over to touch their forehelms together, even if it was upside down. "You going to be okay? I know he's your -- that you two are amica."

"Don't think we are anymore," Ratchet said, feeling the pain of it down to his spark.

“You don’t know that, Ratch,” Drift said, with a soft rumble of his engine. He moved around Ratchet and slid into his lap. "You two survived millions of years of war, right?"

Ratchet ex-vented softly and leaned into Drift's frame and field. "I'm not sure I know him anymore, Drift. The Orion -- the Optimus I knew would have tried to have all the facts before talking to Rodimus. He would have tried to be reasonable." He shuttered his optics before losing himself in the soothing was that was Drift's field. "How's Rodimus?"

"Bit more stable when he left with Megatron," Drift told him, nuzzling Ratchet's neck cables. .

Ratchet nodded. “Good, I’m glad.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Think I might be the one cancelling now, though. Not really in much of a mood for anything after that.”

Drift pressed a kiss just under his jaw. "Ratch, you know I'm happy just spending time with you. Besides, we sorta live together and I have no problem snuggling my handsome endura and giving him all the comfort he needs."

“You seeing someone on the side?” Ratchet asked, an optic ridge raising.

"Ratch!" Drift gasped in mock offensive, then nipped Ratchet's lip plates. "Just you, my strong capable medic." He captured Ratchet's hands and pressed kisses along his servos. "Why don't we go back to our hab and I'll give you a nice oil rub down."

Ratchet couldn’t help groaning, from the gentle touches to his hands and the idea of Drift’s own very skilled hands rubbing the kinks and soreness out of his frame. “Well, if you’re offering,” He finally managed.

Drift pressed kisses into the palms of Ratchet's hands before kissing his mouth slow and sure. "Ratchet, I'd pamper you every night for the rest of our functioning if you'd let me get away with it." He pressed their forehelms together again. "If you want to talk about Prime later -- we can, but I want to make you feel good. You went to bat for my best friend, if I didn't love you more than was possible for one mech to love another - I'd love you even more for that."

Ratchet huffed, embarrassed. He didn’t feel like he deserved to be pampered -- not tonight, not after that… disastrous conversation with Optimus, but -- “Alright,” He agreed. Drift was good at getting his processor off things, and right at that moment, he could use the distraction. 

"Thank you," Drift murmured, as if Ratchet allowing him to pamper him was a gift. He didn't think he'd ever understand that, but he was done trying to chase of happiness in whatever form it took. And he was very fond of Drift's form. Drift kissed him softly, then slid from his lap. He took Ratchet's hands in his and tugged him gently to his feet. "Want to tell me how your shift was while we walk? Got a bet with Brainstorm that Synth would be back in."

Ratchet snorted. “You’re more of a gossip than Swerve sometimes, you know that?” 

Drift grinned, unrepentant. "I'm just interesting in the well-being and happiness of my fellow crew," he said with a laugh chasing the words. He twined his servos with Ratchet's as they left his old mostly unused hab-suite.

“Gossip,” Ratchet reiterated, squeezing Drift’s hand in his lightly.

"If you say so, Medic of my spark," Drift purred, leaning close. 

"Brat," Ratchet laughed, as they walked, passing through familiar corridors. 

"Your brat," Drift shot back, happiness clear in his field. 

Ratchet smiled, squeezing Drift's hand again. "Yes, you are," he agreed, mingling their fields. For some reason his processor went back to the stars on his old hab-suites ceiling. The ones he'd focused on before the call. "Hm, Drift, what do you think about stars above the berth?"

“Oh?” Drift asked, teeking excitement. “Because I was thinking about a few constellations…”


End file.
